


Meeting in Mirkwood

by garylovesjohn



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amputee, Anal Sex, Come Inflation, Come as Lube, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Facials, Hate Sex, Large Cock, M/M, Monsters, Multiple Orgasms, Power Imbalance, Rough Sex, Scratching, Sexual Coercion, Size Difference, Stomach Bulge, Teratophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:47:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25246372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garylovesjohn/pseuds/garylovesjohn
Summary: How far is the Elvenking ready to go to recuperate his precious jewellery?
Relationships: Azog/Thranduil (Tolkien)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 58





	Meeting in Mirkwood

**Author's Note:**

> From 2015.  
> Reposted due to demand.  
> Don't sub to me hoping for more Tolkien fics, I'm no longer part of the fandom.
> 
> Part of an AU where Orcs won the Battle of the Five Armies and Azog was King Under the Mountain.

Azog rode swiftly towards Mirkwood in the cloudy late afternoon, thankful the sun was hidden behind dreary clouds.

His new warg was young and hardy, coursing at an incredible speed.

He quite liked her. The strongest female of the last litter of pups his beloved Daisy had before she passed away.

The ancient matriarch had served him well. Dying of old age was uncommon for the beasts since they usually fell in battle. His heart was broken to part with her, but her bones ached and he had to put her out of her misery himself.

His current mount was not white like her mother, but a lustrous silvery grey. She already led the pack as did her progenitor before her.

Although not as big, she still carried the massive orc with ease.

Daisy's pale fur lined the collar of his coat, a last memory of her. This lovely creature he had watched grow. Out of all the wargs he's ever had in his life, she had been by far his favourite. Now his neck and shoulders were kept warm by her beautiful pelt, so familiar to the touch.

This sumptuous mantle had been made specially for him to celebrate the conquest of Erebor. The back sewn with the scales of the dragon Smaug. After its death, his soldiers had trolls pull the carcass out of the Long Lake lest its rotting carrion befouled the waters.

The ugly reptile's flesh proved unpalatable, tasting strongly of sulphur and ash. Even orcs, who could withstand eating rotten meat, could not bear to make a meal out of this disgusting creature.

Thus the dragon was skinned and left to the scavenging animals. It took numerous washing of its crimson hide to remove its unbearable stench.

Azog wore his long, blood red coat of scales as a mark of prestige. Daisy's fur had been added years later to the garment, making it all the more beautiful. As impractical as it may be during battles, it was a remarkable finery, fit for a great king such as himself, and he definitely sought to impress tonight.

He had been invited over at king Thranduil's court for supper. Or rather, he had somewhat invited himself this time around, but the elf was especially eager to see him after receiving his message.

These little meetings had been occurring a few times a year since the fall of Sauron, about two decades ago.

After the Battle of the Five Armies, Azog had allowed the sylvan elves to keep their kingdom. However, both their kin still had numerous skirmishes in the woods. Most particularly with those residing in Gundabad.

After it became apparent that the orcs would be the ruling species of Middle Earth, Thranduil had no choice but to try and befriend his unlikely neighbour. No longer would he bear to see his elves tortured and slaughtered. Especially after discovering how poor Tauriel had lost her mind after being captured. She no longer remembered how to speak Sindarin nor even recognized him. All she cared for was to be in Bolg's arms, who she now called her husband.

Thus he would have to cast aside his pride if peace was to be achieved.

It all started with uneasy meetings full of condescending remarks and angry stares. Yet, over the years, both kings had learned to make numerous concessions. They didn't have to like each other, but diplomacy was important.

Thranduil himself was rather impressed by the orc leader's pragmatism and intelligence, but still considered him a repulsive monster.

Azog, on the other hand, had absolutely nothing good to say about elves. But, once they finally agreed to contribute by providing his people with food, medicine, and other goods, he ordered his soldiers not to kill them anymore. Of course, there would always be one or two that disappeared in the woods every once in a while, but the relationship between both their people had greatly improved.

Last year, Thranduil had finally dared to request having the white gems of Lasgalen back at long last. Surely the precious necklace still lain somewhere in the massive treasure of Erebor.

He had waited and waited to ask the orc king.

Although he claimed diplomacy, he couldn't pretend the main reason he tried to befriend such a filthy, uncouth beast was so he could finally have the chance to get what rightfully belonged to him. The greedy dwarves who had mocked him now lay long dead, but it was apparent the Lonely Mountain would never be vacated of the fiends that now inhabited it.

Not only that, but it'd probably take months to uncover anything within the hoard. Worse than finding a needle in a haystack. He'd rather have others locate it for him.

For years he had feared the gems had been squandered away by the orcs who first sought to spend all of this wealth. They wanted to spite the dwarves by ruining their vast riches. However, they had soon realized such fortune would be impossible to deplete, no matter how hard they tried.

Thranduil had sent informants to Laketown and spies to keep an eye upon his unruly neighbours. Hoping he would see one of the monsters trying to bargain his property to a merchant, but he never had such luck.

Therefore, there was only one remaining possibility. the gems were still within the mountain.

He finally resolved to ask Azog in person for his possession.

During their previous supper together, over five months ago, the orc king had come with all the silvered diamonds and pearls of Erebor, finding that none of them particularly stood out. Although Thranduil had described what he sought in great lengths, excruciatingly so. Going on and on about how these gems shone just like the stars. How elegant this piece of unique jewellery was. Azog simply assumed he knew nothing of elvish treasures, or even diamonds, since he had found nothing special.

Thus he brought all the glimmering necklaces he could find. Alas, Thranduil's pendant was not amongst them. Seeing his disappointment, the orc had told him he would keep a lookout for it.

Yet no one ever saw this particular piece anywhere.

Until he had visited Bolg in Gundabad just last week.

Azog ostensibly had a knack for interrupting his son during mating. Or perhaps it simply was the couple who spent too much time doing so. It seemed to him that, whenever he would drop by, Bolg and Tauriel were rolling around on pelts before the fireplace.

However, as he was excusing himself out of their room, despite the elven woman practically begging him to join them, he noticed a gorgeous, sparkling necklace hanging upon the antlers of one of his son's numerous hunting trophies.

Bolg admitted to taking the most beautiful piece of jewellery he could find within the hoard years ago so he could bring it to his wife as a gift. Sadly, Tauriel did not like wearing it. Too elvish and effeminate for her. She was a warrior, confessing that she'd rather wear the intestines of her enemies around her neck than this horrible piece of junk.

Thus the gems had been gathering dust in their room since then and Azog gladly relieved them of it.

As soon as he had returned to Erebor, he sent a message to Thranduil, saying he was certain he had found his belonging this time.

And so the orc was promptly invited over by his fellow king. He made sure to be exceptionally presentable this time around. He always tried to dress decently. No skinned dwarven faces for garment, although he still proudly bore Oakenshield's shattered skull upon his chest. At least he did wear clean pants and had his coat washed as well. He also made sure to bathe beforehand. While he didn't use perfumed soap and oils like elves did, it greatly lessened his natural scent, which he knew Thranduil found absolutely unbearable.

He recalled their very first supper together, the blond king had spent the whole evening covering his nose with his long, silken sleeve and had no appetite.

Azog smiled, what it would have been like if the elf had to eat with Bolg instead. His son took a dip in the river once a year at best. Back when they still lived together, the only way he'd manage to get him a bit cleaned up was to invite him to go hunting in the rain.

He soon arrived in Mirkwood.

Although everyone was now rather accustomed to seeing him around, the guards were always nervous in his presence. He left his warg to wander in the forest nearby, catch her own meal and enjoy some freedom.

Walking into the woodland realm, accompanied by two elven archers who kept a close eye upon him, he was escorted before Thranduil who sat upon his carved throne.

It was obvious his fellow king had also made efforts to look his best that night as well. Always clad in silver and muted greys, accented with a silken coat of a contrasting garnet colour.

To Azog, it always looked like a river of bright blood sluiced upon his back. A rather interesting look for an elf, he thought. Red was a strong colour. The sanguine colour of war, of power, of lust. He found that it didn't suit such a feeble, delicate creature. Yet, he never made any remark upon it.

Their falsely polite greetings were quickly put out of the way with half-hearted bows. The both of them always putting great efforts and tolerance during these little evenings.

As Thranduil rose before his guest whilst the guards took their leave.

"So, you've found it? At long last. I trust you had no difficulty searching for it amongst the treasure."

He had a smug smile, looking at the tall orc with a raised eyebrow.

Azog laughed as he fumbled in the inner pocket of his coat and pulled the necklace out. Jingling it lightly before the Elvenking's face.

"That's it, isn't it?" he smirked as he saw Thranduil's cold gaze suddenly flare up with desire, his lips slightly agape.

He stared in awe at his prized necklace. He had not seen it in such a long time, had waited for what seemed like an eternity now.

"Yes..." he barely dared to breathe as he extended his elegant hand to take the gems, but Azog swiftly pulled it into his fist and shoved it back into his pocket.

"You really think I'll let you have it that easily? By my own good will?" he chuckled darkly.

Thranduil's eyes grew wide with offence, trying his best to keep his composure and to remain polite. His stare of ice upon the orc.

"The dwarves already made me pay double for this piece of jewellery. You are the richest king in all of Arda, what more do you want from me?" he hissed between his teeth as rage seethed within him.

How dare he demand anything in exchange? He who had the whole world at his feet .

"I'll tell you after supper." Azog winked slyly.

Thranduil sighed in exasperation.

Still, he had waited this long, he could afford to wait a little more. It was obvious the orc enjoyed trying his patience. Thus he accompanied his guest to his private dining room, taking a deep breath to calm himself.

This evening would be a long one, he thought.

Meals were always the same. Azog tried never to utter any demeaning comments about the cuisine. They served cooked meat floating in sauce. Clear soup that barely filled his stomach. Plenty of greenery. Plants, fruits, vegetables. Some of which being preserved and dried. All the kind of foods orcs would only eat if they were starving.

At least the wine was good, although it took a whole lot of it before he could feel any effect. This alcohol was far weaker than what his people supplied. He was a big orc and had to drink a lot to become the least bit tipsy.

"You ought to pour up for yourself too." Azog chuckled as Thranduil filled his cup some more.

"And why should I be inebriated?" the blond king inquired haughtily, "Have you got the intention to coerce me while I am under the influence?" He stared, unimpressed, at the pale one, having absolutely no clue as to what he was planning.

No answer came, Azog only downed his drink in a few gulps and the elf swiftly refilled on the spirits.

Thranduil always did his best not to criticize his unusual guest's table manners. Ignoring how the orc slurped and chewed noisily with every bite and how wine dripped from the corners of his crooked mouth. It was all about fake politeness.

Normally, he had servants to pour drinks, but Azog would constantly harass them, especially if they were female.

He also could not afford to have bards or anyone around the table. They'd get food thrown at them and the girls would be groped whenever they'd come within reach of the beast.

The last meal they had with other people around was years ago. Azog had spent the entirety of it with a young elf maiden in his lap. Sniffing her hair, licking her face, and shamelessly looking down her dress. The woman had been tremendously uncomfortable and voiced her discontentment numerous times. Yet, the orc kept her firmly pressed against him, bouncing her on his knees, touching her breasts, whispering things in her ear she had never dared repeating to anyone.

Afterwards, Thranduil had judged wiser that the suppers remained between the two of them only.

Azog had a voracious appetite. Whenever he was invited, they made sure to have plenty of servings to satisfy him. As much as he didn't care for elvish cuisine, he would not refuse free food. Plus, he felt a certain guilty pleasure in seeing Thranduil's appalled look when he witnessed just how much he could engulf.

The Elvenking had finished eating for quite a while, now only sipping wine, while the orc was down to his second roasted boar.

He carefully tried to get a conversation going, having learned over many years that Azog was rather finicky. Talking to him was like walking on thin ice. You never knew whether he'd be upset or happy, or if he would even bother answering at all. He had a very strange and rather unpleasant attitude. However, this was hardly surprising considering what he was.

"So, I'm curious. Where did you find my necklace?" Thranduil asked in a honeyed voice over his silver cup.

Azog's eyes shot up from his meal as he chewed loudly.

"My son had given it to his wife." he answered, his mouth still full.

"Tauriel? I do hope she did not mind parting with it." the elf commented with an obviously fake concern.

"She didn't like it. Thought it was too girly. I've found the thing by mere luck, it was hanging upon an antlers trophy in Gundabad." the orc laughed as his host rolled his eyes.

"Charming." Thranduil sighed. Such arrogance and lack of respect in this primitive beast, but since he seemed to be in good dispositions to talk now, he continued, "Will you ever tell me what you want in exchange? So I can have time to make a decision."

Azog smirked at his words, holding the king's blue gaze as he licked his fingers dripping with meat juices, "You won't have to make a decision. You say yes, you get the necklace. You say no, I keep it. It's that simple."

Thranduil swallowed hard, doing his best to hold the orc's burning stare. He clenched his teeth, trying to remain as impassive as possible.

"I still do not see what I could offer you as payment.

"It's easy. Just what any orc would want." Azog shrugged with a slight smile.

The Elvenking's blood ran cold for a moment.

What would any orc want? Torture? Death?

His mind raced with horrible scenarios. He desired to have his jewellery, but it would be worthless if the monster were to ask for his head in return. It was already bad enough that he had the conviction his own son had been slain by his guest's foul progeny. He had no proof of it, and had never dared bringing up the subject, but only a fool would believe otherwise.

"Will you keep speaking in riddles or will you get to the point? I thought your kind prided themselves on being direct." Thranduil asked with contempt, annoyed by such an attitude. He carried on in a more menacing tone, "But let me warn you that if you think I will let you harm my kin to satiate your bloodlust, you can forget about it immediately."

He clenched his teeth. Life was more precious than a handful of gems, but he would hate if that was what the orc had in mind. He really hoped they could come to some form of agreement. However, he knew he was in no position to negotiate with his neighbour, never was, and never would be.

Azog downed his full cup of wine again. Having drank over three whole bottles all by himself, his blood was barely beginning to warm up.

Enough with the hors-d'œuvres, he thought, now was time to devour the main course.

"Is there somewhere a bit more private?" He smiled with a gleam in his silver eyes.

Thranduil acquiesced with elegance as he rose from his seat, motioning his guest to follow.

The orc trailed behind him, the metal on his heavy boots resonating with every step.

They soon reached an adjacent lounge and the Elvenking cautiously locked the door. He hoped he would not come to regret confining himself alone with such a brute. However, privacy was of the utmost importance. He could not afford having anyone know what he would be bargaining in exchange for his prized possession. Whatever it was that the beast wanted, nobody had to be aware of the situation.

Eyeing his surroundings, Azog sniffed the air, making sure nobody was hiding somewhere.

The room was small, with only one door. Its opulent draperies illuminated by the fireplace crackling gently in the back.

Thranduil sat upon the velvet couch close by, keeping his eyes fixated upon his guest.

The orc wasted no time plopping down by his side and making himself comfortable, his feet resting on the low table before them.

The elf waited patiently as both stared at each other, impassive and seemingly unimpressed.

"I want to lay with you." Azog finally said in blunt honesty as he extended his only hand. His rough thumb brushing against the blond's mouth.

Thranduil instantly recoiled, confused by the sudden approach.

That was completely unexpected, he thought.

He knew very well the pale orc's aversion for his kind. Now he wanted to have sex with him? He couldn't even think of a good, biting reply. Surely, this poor, primitive creature was mistaken.

"I do hope you are aware that I am not a woman." he huffed, halfway between offended and disgusted.

"I know." the orc sneered, licking his crooked lips, "No matter how much perfume you elves wear, no matter if you all look the same, I can still smell the difference between male and female. Why does it matter that you're not a woman? I don't want to have whelps with you."

"I never thought one such as you would take advantage of another man." Thranduil scoffed, mildly vexed.

He had enjoyed the company of a few males in his life, but he could only feel apprehension about laying with an orc. Not only was the mere idea absolutely disgusting, but if his guest was proportional all over, then it would surely be an absolute nightmare. He had always assumed his kind only desired females. The pale one had proudly voiced, and even demonstrated, his adoration of the fairer sex on numerous occasions.

Azog laughed at his host's condescension, "And why not? You obviously know very little of orcs. It doesn't matter what's between your legs as long as you spread them."

"Why would I ever need to know anything about orcs?"

Thranduil rolled his eyes in annoyance, trying to remain as impassive as he could, yet scooted away when the brute leaned in closer.

"Well, tonight you'll learn how to pleasure one." Azog purred as he nuzzled the crease of his neck.

He shivered at the touch. At least the beast didn't seek blood from him, but was he really going to stoop so low for a necklace? This would surely be his only chance at recuperating it from the fiend.

He had no other choice, but still he feared what might be coming next. Even going as far as wondering if his kind were shaped like other people.

What would he find down an orc's pants?

Perhaps something unspeakable and twisted. An eldritch phallus meant for the worst torture imaginable.

Gathering his courage, the Elvenking tried his best to remain positive. He had to make this sacrifice. Such precious gems remaining in the hand of a vile monster who couldn't even appreciate their unearthly beauty. This was a sacrilege.

When the orc's scarred lips sought his, he softly kissed back. His rasp tongue quickly found its way into his mouth and Thranduil moaned, ever so slightly. He hoped his acceptance of the approach would be enough to indicate that he agreed to the terms.

As Azog pressed his pointy metal claw upon his body, the elf cringed.

"Be careful with that thing." he hissed as he held it away from him with one hand.

The other chuckled, "Are you worried I'm going to leave my mark in your flawless skin?"

Thranduil looked at him, somewhat irked, his blue eyes cold as ice.

Azog shrugged after a moment, not wanting to argue about it, "Better take it off then."

He grasped the prosthetic firmly, twisting it in its socket. It cracked and was instantly pulled out from the stump.

The elf shivered at the morbid sound and sight.

Placing the claw upon the nearby table, Azog trailed his fingers along Thranduil's jawline before licking his lips.

The blond king felt a certain disgust at the rugose tongue, so strange upon his skin. It was a lot more like an animal lapping at his face than anything else.

The orc smirked, "Take your clothes off if you don't want me tearing them."

Thranduil sighed, but disrobed himself nonetheless, a tad ashamed to be nude in front of such a vile creature. Still, he wasn't about to take the risk of having these priceless garments ruined.

Azog also undressed, only a lot faster than his companion for he didn't wear as much.

As soon as the both of them were bare, the orc stared for a moment. Tall, limber elf, his skin softly coloured by freckles. Definitely not his type, but this wasn't about attraction.

It was about establishing dominance.

He grabbed his fellow king by his blond locks as he sat back down.

"I trust you know what to do." he growled as he pressed him to his knees.

Thranduil bared his teeth in defiance, hating getting his hair in a mess, but knelt nonetheless.

Although the orc had eyed him intently before, he barely dared looking upon him. Not that there was much he hadn't seen yet since he usually wore very little. Those horrible scars in his stocky, white body were gruesome and made him uncomfortable. Not to mention his missing hand.

However, he was relieved to find that the monster did not have such an abnormal appendage between his strong thighs. It was still flaccid, thus he couldn't judge of its size yet. The only thing repulsive about it was its grey colour. He had never seen an orc's virility before and, had he not remembered they had dark blood, he would have been worried about such a sight.

"What are you waiting for? Do you want your pretty trinket back or not?" Azog snarled.

The elf frowned. He dearly hoped the foul beast would keep his word and not simply use the necklace as an incentive to lay with him.

He grasped the orc's soft member in his delicate hands, surprised by the tremendous heat of it. Stroking him with a firm grip, he quickly hardened in his palms.

Thranduil's eyes grew wide with horror as this already sizable flesh swelled disproportionately. Bulging and twitching, the monstrous shaft had an unusual shape. The dark head was large and protuberant while the midsection was far wider that the rest. Numerous black veins snaked upon its thickness, swollen with boiling blood, giving it quite a bit of texture. The foreskin was loose and sagged at the tip, creating countless creases when fully pulled back.

"Don't be shy, give it a kiss." Azog chuckled upon seeing the elf's distressed look. He rubbed his erection, already dripping with need, against his cheek.

A shiver crept down Thranduil's spine as he pressed his lips to the oozing member.

He closed his eyes, trying to focus his mind on another, more attractive person, but was quickly ordered to look upon the face of who he was servicing.

Barely able to take him into his mouth without his jaw aching, the taste salty on his tongue. He swallowed and slurped around the engorged shaft.

He had no other choice but to use both hands to help pleasuring such a huge beast.

"Raise your hips." the orc purred as his hand gently massaged his freckled back.

He did as he was told, choking a bit as Azog leaned over him.

"I do believe we'll need some oil." Thranduil gasped as a large hand massaged his buttocks.

The pale one sneered, licking his thumb before slowly rubbing it between his partner's cheeks in a circular motion.

"I've done this plenty of time without."

The elf lost his breath as the large digit was slowly inserted inside his rear. He grew slightly apprehensive, convinced the fiend would enjoy torturing him, but it was too late to turn back now. Focusing on pleasuring his guest, Thranduil squirmed and spurted as his head was once again firmly pressed down the massive shaft by the orc's amputated arm.

It wasn't long before he had two large fingers, dripping in thick saliva, pressed into of him. Much bigger than anyone he had ever laid with, and yet these were nothing compared to what would be entering him next.

He gagged, his jaw hurting from being forced open so wide. He could feel his teeth scraping against Azog's skin, yet the pain it was certainly causing him only seemed to heighten his pleasure.

Despite his unease, he became increasingly aroused, yet tried his best to deny it.

The orc grunted in pleasure, urging him to keep on going. As much as he liked women, a man's mouth was always better and his gracious host was no exception. He could almost swallow his whole length down his throat, a feat only larger orcs could accomplish.

Holding him firmly against his groin, he fingered the elf's bottom with a rough hand, making sure he would be able to take him. Alternating between stretching his hole and spanking his toned cheeks. If his kind knew anything, it was that this form of coupling took plenty of patience. He wouldn't turn down the oil if his partner had troubles accommodating his size, but he'd rather go without if he could.

Feeling his peak approaching, Azog ordered the Elvenking back up and instantly shoved him down onto the couch as he rose.

Thranduil gasped for air as soon as his mouth was finally freed, but winced as the powerful orc pushed and held him into submission.

He braced himself for the excruciating pain that would certainly be coming next. He wasn't ready and using only spit to slick such a sizable shaft would not make things pleasant at all.

Azog rubbed his erection between the elf's flushed buttocks, admiring the view. He wasn't especially fond of his woodland kin, nor of fair-haired people either, but his fellow king had a certain charm. Especially when he lain like that, waiting to be taken.

He pressed his fingers back into him, working them in and out even harder than before. It was in moments like these that he wished he still had two hands. Nevertheless, the lewd display, the moans of the submissive elf, the feel of him around his knuckles, all mixed together as a delightful combination to arouse him until he could no longer bear it.

Pulling his fingers back, he pressed just the very tip of his shaft into him as he came in a low growl.

Thranduil gasped as he felt the hot liquid filling his insides. There was way too much and it sloshed down his thighs and spurted onto the carpet.

How absolutely disgusting.

His stomach felt full to the point of hurting and yet the orc just wouldn't stop. He grimaced in discomfort, losing what little hardness his member had gained. It was revolting.

As his orgasm slowly subsided, Azog wasted no time and firmly pressed himself into his partner. He went in little by little, inch by inch, pulling back every time and re-entering him, going a bit further until he was fully sheathed.

Thranduil squirmed in discomfort around such a huge intrusion. Way too massive and oddly shaped, he could even feel the veins upon it, making the experience all the more unnatural.

He lost his breath as the orc started moving. His pace slow at first, but he quickly picked up some speed and it increased in brutality.

This monstrous appendage, so large and swollen. It wasn't incredibly long, yet it still felt like it was ruining him from the inside. It was only minutes later that his body finally adjusted to the size, but the strength of his shoves still left him struggling for air.

Too rough, too big, almost like it was hitting him straight in the stomach.

Azog's only fist balled into the elf's lustrous hair, so perfect.

He firmly pinned him down onto the couch. The furniture creaked with each powerful thrust of his heavy body. Slamming his hips against his partner's raised rump. So tight around him, so blissful.

Every time he'd lay with another male, he would wonder why he never did so more often. His hand trailed down the Elvenking's back, scratching lightly, until it reached his slim waist, claws digging into his milky skin.

Lowering himself over him, his stump resting firmly upon his nape, he was able to sodomize him even deeper. Their full balls slapping wetly together as semen still continuously dripped from the elf's abused rear.

He was tempted to dominate him more violently, perhaps even hurt him a bit, but he withheld his primal urges. As long as the elf did not protest and kept his head down, he had no reason to rough him up.

What a shame, he thought. He took great pride in displaying his strength as a partner.

Thranduil gasped as he recoiled with every shove.

So powerful. Such a brutal monster.

He bit the cushion underneath him to suppress a long moan. He finally began to feel pleasure and his member hardened again.

Holding Azog's pale gaze, he panted in unabated lust.

He had to admit, this filthy beast, as repulsive as he was, knew how to please. He enjoyed being held down into submission, even if he'd rather not bend before his kind, he could let go of his inhibitions just for tonight.

He'd never thought recuperating his jewellery would turn out to be so pleasant in the end.

The odd shape of the orc's member made the friction so delightfully intense. His nerves constantly assaulted by its twisted texture. He loved it.

Azog knew mating with him was quite the ordeal due to his size and strength, he always admired those who could bear it. Pulling out, he spit copiously into the elf's gaping rear before penetrating him again. He so desired to sully him, to make him feel like a dirty harlot. Staring at his plump erection so tightly squeezed, glistening with his own saliva and come, he smirked before spanking him hard.

Thranduil yelped, both aroused and disgusted by the orc's crude manners.

Nobody had ever spit on him before, much less inside of him. Still, he enjoyed the hint of pain and grasped his own erection since it was apparent his partner would not help him with this. His toes curled as pleasure gradually boiled within him.

Harder, deeper, his body begged for more. Dominated and forcefully driven to ecstasy.

Had he actually trusted his guest, he might have asked to be tied down. This was a little treat he rarely allowed himself, but he felt sure the orc would get the wrong idea from it or get carried away in his brutality. He doubted this primitive creature knew how to properly mix pain and pleasure or even truly cared about his partner's enjoyment.

Still, rocked so hard and taken by intense sensations he had never quite felt before, Thranduil came as the orc's relentless thrusts didn't even come to a halt to let him recover.

Azog laughed a bit at he felt his partner clenching him so tightly as he spilled himself upon the couch. He was always amused to see how very little others had to offer. How short and seemingly underwhelming their orgasms were. Poor little things, they knew not the meaning of true sexual bliss. Even many of his kin had lost this gift by crossbreeding too much with lesser races.

Encouraged by his host's delight, Azog pounded him even harder and soon reached his peak as well, emptying himself once more into his rear.

Thranduil moaned in discomfort as he was filled to the brim again. So tremendously hot and abundant. The orc's powerful orgasm lasted just as long as the first one.

Feeling him throb so deep inside his gut, a soft, trembling whine escaped his parted lips.

Azog roared, drooling all over his back while he was still ejaculating, "You just love being full of orc seed, don't you?"

"Spare me your pitiful attempts at arousing me with words." Thranduil hissed as he rolled his eyes.

He pressed his hands to his stomach, now slightly swollen. What a horrible feeling. At least it was over now, he thought.

It hadn't been that bad, all things considered. Overly disgusting, yes, but not devoid of a certain guilty pleasure.

However, his heart sank as Azog resumed his brutal pace, taking him even more roughly than before.

"A-aren't you done yet?" Thranduil gasped in horror as he felt all strength abandoning him swiftly after such a long and strenuous coupling.

"Here's a lesson in orcish culture : once is never enough."

The pale one smiled as his claws left inflamed welts upon the elf's sheening skin. He didn't like him as a mate, but as a partner for tonight, his rear was rather delicious. He particularly enjoyed how submissive he was. Obviously, he knew his place in this world.

Thranduil collapsed, unable to hold himself straight anymore. His upper body resting upon the couch while his legs slouched on the carpet. His guest laughed darkly to see him faltering, but showed no mercy as he kept rutting inside his gut with full force.

No longer erect, the elf just let it happen. This ugly monster had a lot more stamina than him. He wasn't cut to have sex with an orc and doubted anybody was.

He now understood the distress felt by his fellows who had been abused by these horrible creatures. They spilled too much and lasted too long. For what sick purpose were they able to mate so relentlessly?

Perhaps this was why they reproduced so fast. Over the past century, it seemed to him that the population of Erebor had easily quadrupled.

He closed his eyes and tried to relax, just wishing for it to end soon.

Azog flipped the elf over to face him, squeezing his slender cheeks in his hand.

He kept taking him for a long while, untirable, and rather amused to see his partner's member didn't even have the capacity to remain erect after climax.

He held his blue gaze, still hypnotizing despite his tiredness. The Elvenking wasn't so high and mighty now. He purred as he slowly trailed his claws upon his freckled chest, down to his stomach, over the golden curls of his flaccid virility.

He was about to come again, so he pulled out and stroked his painfully stiff hardness in his calloused palm.

All of the sperm contained within Thranduil's sore bottom poured out and he whimpered softly, repulsed by such a feeling. His disgust increased tenfold as the orc ejaculated all over him, splashing his face and torso in slimy white fluid. He gasped and spurted as some found its way into his mouth. The pungent, sour taste as vile as can be.

Azog growled in victorious pleasure as he eagerly milked every last drop from his engorged shaft. Relishing in seeing his abused host completely doused. Filthy, defaced elves were always a thing of beauty.

Spent and satisfied, he righted himself before fumbling into his coat laying nearby.

"It's yours now. You earned it." Azog cooed while placing the shimmering jewellery around the Elvenking's neck, drenched in his semen, as he lain upon the couch, barely conscious.

He quickly dressed himself again, reattaching the claw in his amputated arm, and left without a sound.

Thranduil slowly sat up, grabbing the white gems in hand, dripping as they were, and admiring their beauty.

He sighed, how low he had to sink to finally acquire them.

Suddenly feeling quite repulsed with himself, he painstakingly rose.

The necklace was his again, that was the important thing. He had commissioned this beautiful work of art centuries ago in memory of his late wife. Even the dwarves knew they had achieved an unprecedented level of perfection in their craft after making this masterpiece. They had kept raising the price, greedy as they were. No matter how much he paid, he could never acquire his rightful belonging.

Thranduil took a deep breath, wiping his face in disgust. He could finally put this whole story behind him.

Now, what he needed, more than anything in this world, was a very long, very hot, bath.


End file.
